Thanks For the Memory
by JillSwinburne
Summary: The Messers' have a New Years Eve party and the evening brings about a rather unexpected reunion. SMACKED. songfic.


**Hey there folks, time for a little more SMACKED action from yours truly. Now I get the feeling some of you are going to hate me for this one but I couldn't help it. Much as I love Mac and Stella as a couple there's just something about them that makes me think it might not last. Anyhoo, I pray that you forgive me and like this one anyway.**

**Disclaimer: Mac and Stella belong to each other totally and utterly. As for the rest, I just like to play with them**

**The song is Thanks for the Memory by Bob Hope and Shirley Ross, it's a very sweet little song with a very bittersweet message.**

* * *

_Thanks for the memory_

_Of sentimental verse, nothing in my purse_

_And chuckles when the preacher said "For better or for worse"_

_How lovely it was._

The years had taken their toll on both of them; there was grey in his hair and wrinkles around her eyes. But the instant they saw each other time seemed to fall away from both of them and they were as they had been; not young exactly, but fresher somehow, lighter as though the world had momentarily ceased to weigh them down.

Their friends cast around for other topics of conversation, anything to draw attention away from the couple at the centre of the room. They seemed to have gravitated towards each other and others moved back as though repelled by the field of energy they radiated.

"Danny!" whispered Lindsey in desperation, her eyes wide as she watched her former co-workers stare silently at each other. But her husband held her back.

"Leave it," he whispered back.

"But…"

"Leave it."

This time she didn't reply but looked back towards the couple.

A hush seemed to have fallen across the room. Everyone was waiting, waiting for one or other of them to speak.

It was Mac who spoke first, a smile slipping onto his face as he inclined his head a little.

"Hey Stella," he murmured softly, "how have you been?"

She beamed in return and gave an easy shrug.

"You know me, always busy."

The room breathed a collective sigh of relief, the tension evaporating with their smiles. A light buzz began as conversation was once more resumed.

"What are they both doing here?" asked Lindsey, still a little frantic.

"I invited them," piped up a voice from her side and she turned to glare at her daughter.

"What? But honey, why?"

The teenage girl gave a little shrug and indicated her aunt and uncle who were talking happily, oblivious to the chatter around them.

"Because it was time," she replied and moved off before her mother could berate her further.

_Thanks for the memory_

_Of Schubert's serenade, little things of jade_

_And traffic jams and anagrams and bills we never paid,_

_How lovely it was._

"You look good Stella," said Mac, his gaze taking her in slowly as his eyes walked the well-known root from her head to her toes and back again. She had put on a little weight and it looked good on her.

"Pfft, I look old," she told him matter-of -factly, "and so do you."

He laughed softly.

"You still look good to me," he returned. "You always did."

She had the decency to blush at that and tapped him lightly on the chest with the tip of one finger.

"Yeh well, I guess you don't look so bad yourself."

"Even for an old man?" he teased.

"Even for that."

They were stood toe to toe now, smiling at each other quietly, a little island of tranquillity in the busy apartment. But their little bubble was burst when someone bumped into Stella and she stepped forward instinctively, her hands coming up to save herself as she landed against Mac's broad chest.

"Sorry," muttered the party-goer before disappearing into the crowd once more.

Mac had reacted automatically, reaching out to catch Stella as she stumbled, his arm now around her waist as he glared after the interloper.

Stella looked up into his face and smiled softly.

"You know, you can let me go now," she said quietly.

"Sorry," he murmured, releasing her, letting her take a pace or two away from him.

He thought she might leave now, say she'd catch him later, that there were other people she had to talk to but instead she gestured towards the French windows.

"It's a little busy in here," she said. "You want to go outside for a while?"

It was December in New York and snowing outside but he found himself nodding nevertheless.

"Tell you what," he said, an idea striking him, "grab some food, I'll get your coat, we'll have a picnic."

She beamed at him once more.

"Perfect."

They parted and Mac found himself in his niece's bedroom where the coats of the assembled revellers had been dumped. He managed to find his own woollen overcoat but wasn't sure what Stella had been wearing when she had arrived.

"You going somewhere uncle Mac?" said a voice behind him and he turned to see Lucy behind him, grinning slightly.

"Lucy," he said. "Do you know which of these is your aunt Stella's coat?"

"The red one," she replied. "You didn't answer my question."

"I know."

Turning around with both coats he pecked her lightly on her forehead.

"Thanks honey."

"Have fun," she called after him and he winked at her as he left.

_We who could laugh over big things_

_Were parted by only a slight thing_

_I wonder if we did the right thing?_

_Oh well, that's life I guess._

Stella was waiting for him outside. The Messer's balcony was more like a mini roof garden, what with their apartment being on the top floor. Danny had created hell over the price when Lindsey had first seen it but she wanted Lucy to have somewhere safe to play outside where they could keep an eye on her so Danny had sucked it up and pulled double shifts for a few months to cover the extra costs.

Over the years the toys and sandpit had been replaced by a covered barbecue and a couple of sun loungers, although these were covered in snow this evening.

"You took your time!" Stella said accusingly, but not really meaning it.

Mac pulled her warm red coat around her shoulders and took the plates from her cold hands so that she could pull it on properly. She pulled on some gloves too and taking one plate back from him she motioned him to a sheltered corner where the wind didn't blow so much and the edge of the roof overhung the wall enough to make a clear patch in the snow for them to stand in.

They ate in silence for a while, watching the snow as it whirled, making the lights of the city seem to flicker and spark.

Again it was Mac who broke their silence.

"You here with anyone?" he asked.

"No. You?"

"No."

She turned to frown at him.

"Mac, I may have been away from the lab for a while but I haven't completely lost my touch. You're wearing a wedding ring."

He glanced down at his left hand as though he had been unaware of the gold band that clung there.

"Oh," he murmured. "That."

"Yeh, that."

"I never took it off," he told her simply.

Her eyebrows rose, disappearing beneath the curtain of wind-whipped curls.

"Decided I couldn't do it again so I just… kept it on."

Stella dipped her head to hide her blush and chewed her lip a little. Then she brought one gloved hand up to her throat and reaching inside her sweater she pulled out a thin gold chain on which hung a similar ring.

She glanced up at him and gave a slightly sheepish shrug.

"Couldn't really get rid of it either," she admitted.

He smiled.

"Guess we make quite a pair huh?"

"We always did," she reminded him.

They were staring at each other again and Mac moved forward, inclining his head slightly to kiss her gently. She didn't move away but instead stroked his cheek gently with one gloved hand.

When he pulled back she slid herself against his chest, letting him wrap his arms around her, feeling the warmth and the security that always seemed to radiate around him.

"I kinda missed you, you know," she told him.

"I kinda missed you too."

He squeezed her gently and she shut her eyes tight, concentrating on the feel of his coat beneath her cheek, the smell of him, the way his fingers stroked her back gently.

_Thanks for the memory _

_Of faults that you forgave, rainbows on a wave_

_And stockings in the basin when a fella needs a shave_

_Thank you so much._

"We weren't that bad were we?" he asked into her hair.

"About average I guess."

"Average?"

"Well," she paused for a second. "I suppose statistically," but he cut her off.

"Stella!"

"What? Oh, I know, '_there are lies, damn lies and statistics_'. Well thank you Mark Twain but let's face it Mac, the odds weren't exactly stacked in our favour."

He sighed heavily.

"I guess not."

People in the lab had won a lot of money betting on when the two of them would get together. Others had lost a lot of money betting on how long it would last, but Mac couldn't imagine that anyone had lost as much as he had.

"But it wasn't bad, right?" he asked, a little touch of desperation scratching at his voice.

Stella finally lifted her head to him and laughed at his question.

"Are you kidding? After Frankie and Drew and all the other dumb palookas I got involved with you were a god-send. You were like Prince Charming and James Bond all rolled into one!"

That made him laugh.

"You really did have terrible taste in men," he said.

"I must have if I married you," she retorted and they both laughed once more.

When his laughter died away Mac looked at her seriously once more.

"But really?" he said softly. "Were we really doomed?"

She reached up and stroked his face once more, noticing how the hard lines had become softer with age.

"I don't know Mac," she said gently. "Maybe if you'd been single when we first met, or if I hadn't shot Frankie or a million other little things had been different. Maybe then we would have worked out but…"

"We didn't," he finished for her and she nodded.

"We didn't."

He looked out into the snow again and she could see the tears trying to form at the edge of his eyes.

"Hey," she poked him in the chest to make him look at her. "We had fun too though, right?"

His smile came back and he nodded.

"Yeh, we had fun."

_Thanks for the memory_

_Of tinkling temple bells, alma mater yells_

_And Cuban rum and towels from the very best hotels_

_Oh how lovely it was._

Inside the Messer's New Year Eve party was in full swing. Most of the guests had already forgotten the tense meeting at the start of the party and had moved on to other conversations but for a small group in the corner there could be only one topic.

"Lucy invited them."

Danny shook his head.

"Then she can clear up after it all goes down," he said.

But Hawkes disagreed.

"Come on Danny, this is Mac and Stella."

"Exactly! Now you guys may not remember this but I remember the day she walked into his office with an AK47 under her arm. Do not underestimate the amount of damage they can do!"

Don was on Hawkes' side.

"The Doc's right Danny, they wouldn't make a scene at your party, they're too professional for that."

"They haven't worked together never mind seen each other for nearly five years Don! Professional kinda goes out the window after that amount of time."

"I still don't think you should be worried," said Hawkes. "After all, they were talking perfectly naturally a little while ago."

"That's how it starts," muttered Danny ominously.

"You know I always thought it was a shame they didn't work out," chimed in Sid. "They always seemed to fit together so well."

"Chemistry," nodded Don.

"What do you know about chemistry cop," joked Hawkes.

"He's right," said Danny. "It's chemistry; if you mix it together wrong it goes BOOM!"

Lindsey slapped her husband in the stomach lightly.

"Knock it off Danny, you're not helping."

"Hey guys," everyone turned to look at Adam who had been silent up until now. He was looking around the room, his brows knit together in concern. "Does anyone know where they went?"

The little group of colleagues began to twist and turn, casting around for any sight of the potentially volatile couple.

Lindsey caught her daughter's wrist as she passed.

"Honey, have you seen Mac and Stella?"

The girl smiled.

"Sure, they're out on the balcony."

"The balcony!" exclaimed Lindsey, "but it's December, they'll freeze to death!"

"Don't sweat it mom, Uncle Mac took their coats out."

"But what on earth are they doing out there?" fussed her mother, her eyes fixed on the French windows which were covered by heavy curtains.

"I don't think you need to worry about that either," said Lucy with a smile.

"Lucy," said Danny sharply, "have you been spying on them?"

His daughter blushed slightly and looked at the floor.

"I just had a peek to make sure they weren't at each others throats."

There was silence for a moment before Danny touched the girl on the shoulder.

"So come on," he said, "spill. What are they doin' out there?"

"Yeh come on Luce, what's the deal are they fightin' or what?" asked Don, just as interested.

Lindsey shook her head in disbelief but leaned closer to her daughter to hear her reply anyway.

"Not fighting," said Lucy brightly. "When I checked it looked more like they were making out."

"What!"

The whole room turned to look at Lindsey and she went bright red and tried to hide behind Danny.

"Just ignore her folks," called Danny and then he turned back to his daughter.

"Lucy baby, tell us exactly what you saw."

_Thanks for the memory_

_Of cushions on the floor, drinks with Roger Moore_

_That pair of gay pyjamas that you bought and never wore._

The snow had slackened off a little but Stella kept close to Mac, facing out across the city now, her back against his chest, his arms folded around her waist. They were laughing; remembering some dumb joke, the time she'd tickled him awake, how he'd retaliated by dumping her in the bath fully clothed, baby-sitting Lucy, painting the living room, good times.

They both knew that these were only the good times. The bad times didn't need mentioning; arguments that got brought home no matter what they promised, sullen silences, flared tempers. They'd never been violent towards each other, they hadn't needed to be. The knowledge that it wasn't working, that they couldn't hold it together no matter how many good days there were, was pain enough. The end had never really been very far away.

They had never blamed each other, it was fate; bad timing, bad planning, the pair of them too stuck in their own ways and too stubborn to change. They didn't blame anyone else, they didn't even blame the job. They just accepted it. They loved each other, they simply couldn't live together.

But when they thought about it, together now or alone, the badness seemed to form a kind of black soup, individual incidents becoming indistinguishable, reasons for fights and who had started them all lost to time. Only the good things stuck out. And there had been so many good things.

"You know I still have that snowglobe you bought me?" she said.

"The one with the penguins?"

"Yeh."

It had been a present for her birthday. Too many cases and too much paperwork had gotten in the way and before either of them knew it her birthday had been upon them and they had both forgotten. He had taken her to a local five and dime store, the only place still open when they'd left the lab.

"Pick anything you want," he'd said.

"Are you serious?" she asked, laughing.

"Absolutely. Pick anything and then next week I'll take you out to dinner."

She had come back with the snowglobe clasped in her hands.

"I want this."

"You sure?"

"Yup."

"Alright then."

He had bought the little globe with its canoodling penguins and she'd kissed him sweetly.

"Thank you," she whispered.

That night they'd sat on the couch, drinking leftover wine and watching the little plastic flakes swim and swirl until they had fallen asleep.

The dopey little knick-knack had lived on the mantelpiece until she'd left and taken it with her. It had slipped his mind completely, but then so had a lot of things, but he found them coming back to him now. Warm, pleasant memories crowded his brain; memories of kisses and smiles and little touches, each one perfect in its detail.

He hugged her a little closer.

_We said goodbye with a highball_

_Then I got as high as a steeple_

_But we were intelligent people_

_No tears, no fuss_

_Hurray for us._

The count-down had started, the sudden shouting jarring them from their little reverie.

"We should go back in," murmured Stella.

"Yeh."

He let her go a little too quickly and turned back towards the windows a little too eagerly. She could tell he was fighting back tears again because she could feel them building behind her own eyes and took the opportunity to blink them back, shaking her head at herself and her own foolish sentimentality.

He held the glass door open for her, letting her slip back inside into the warm, although she hadn't really been cold out there.

She pulled her gloves off, stuffing them back in her coat pockets and leaning against the wall as everyone crowded around the big TV with the picture of Time Square and the brightly lit ball which had begun its slow descent.

"Ten!" shouted everyone.

They saw Danny and Lindsey across the room, grinning at each other.

"Nine!"

Lucy and her boyfriend perched on the sofa.

"Eight!"

The others dotted about the room, hastily refilling their drinks and trying to find a good spot near someone kissable.

"Seven!"

Mac's fingers brushed lightly against hers.

"Six!"

She grasped his hand tightly.

"Five!"

"Stella."

"Four!"

"What?"

"Three!"

"I love you!"

"Two!"

"I love you too!"

"One! Happy New Year!"

There were tears in her eyes as he kissed her and her mind blocked out all the cheering and whooping that surrounded them so that it was just them. It wasn't the sweet little kiss he'd given her earlier but a hot, rough kiss full of five years worth of desperation and longing; a kiss that both burned and soothed at the same time.

When they pulled apart she saw that he was crying too and then she finally gave in and buried her face in his chest, sobbing hard, her body shaking and him unable to comfort her because his was the same.

They clung together as though if they let go they might never find each other again. They might not. They clung tighter as the party raged around them.

"I'm so sorry!" she gasped into his shirt. "Oh God I'm so sorry!"

"Stella!" He was incapable of saying anything except repeating her name.

Eventually their sobs died down and their tears dried up and they were able to look at each other and smile a little.

The party would continue for a while but neither of them was in the mood for it any more.

"You need a ride somewhere?" he asked softly and she nodded.

Only Lucy saw them go. She'd tell her parents later. She'd seen them crying, known they didn't need a fuss made over their leaving. The last thing either of them needed was more fuss. So she let them go and went back to the party with her fingers crossed.

_Strictly entre-nous, darling how are you?_

_And how are all those little dreams that never did come true?_

_Awfully glad I met you_

_Cheerio, toodle-oo._

Stella was living on the outskirts these days. They'd always lived on opposite sides of town but when they'd split she'd felt the need to put even more space between them; she'd left her home and her job but she couldn't leave the city. Bad as it had been she couldn't leave him entirely.

The ride was quiet, but not uncomfortable. The roads were terrible; most of them blocked off due to snow and ice, the grit machines unable to keep up, waiting for the sun to do some of the work for them.

Mac had to take a pretty circuitous route and by the time they reached her house dawn was beginning to colour the horizon ever so slightly.

"This is me," she said, indicating the house and he brought the car to a stop.

Now the quiet seemed more awkward.

"Do you uh, want to come in?" she asked, head dipped so that her hair hid her face.

"Thanks but… I should really get back. By the time I get back in…"

"Yeh, okay."

Silence.

"Well, I guess…"

She didn't bother finishing the sentence, opening her door and beginning to slide out of her seat.

"Stella?"

A hand covered hers and she turned back, unsure whether the hope that momentarily rose inside of her was a good thing or not.

"I…" he stared deeply into her eyes. "Would you want to get a cup of coffee or something sometime? Just you know, if you're in the city."

She frowned a little.

"I don't get in very often these days," she replied.

"Oh. That's… sorry I… nevermind then."

He turned back to the steering wheel, his hand slipping from hers.

"But."

He turned back to her and she could see the same hope in them that she had felt only a moment ago.

"But maybe you could come over for dinner some night," she said. "I'm a much better cook these days," she added shyly.

A smile slid its way across his face.

"That'd be nice," he said softly.

She nodded.

"Why don't you give me a call later," she said. "I'm in the book."

"I will."

"Okay."

"Bye then."

"Bye."

She sat for another second and then leaned over and kissed his cheek, near the corner of his mouth.

As her lips touched his skin she felt herself tremble for a second but she pulled back and smiled brightly at him.

"Bye," she whispered again and this time she slipped out of the car and closed the door behind her.

She didn't look back as she walked up the path and opened the door, knowing that he would wait to see her safely inside before he finally left. She wondered if pulling away would be as hard for him as not looking back was for her.

That kiss they had shared at midnight had been full of so many things; regrets, promises. For almost five years now she had felt empty but for a few blissful seconds she had felt whole again in his arms. She still loved him, had never stopped, and tonight he had confirmed her suspicions that he felt the same way.

She climbed the stairs to her bedroom, searching in a cupboard until she found what she was looking for.

She hadn't opened the album in a very long time, couldn't even remember how she'd come to have it rather than him. She sat on her bed, slowly turning the pages, fingers tracing over smiling faces, fingers entwined, gazes locked, the happy little moments she'd been clinging to all this time.

Stella wondered if they could ever be like that again. That kiss had certainly suggested that it was possible. But she pushed the thoughts away. People change in five years, she should wait and see if he called, then they could take it from there.

She fell asleep before the sun was fully up, the photo album cradled in her arms and a small flame of hope in her heart.

_Thank you_

_Thank you so much._


End file.
